The atmosphere, which had only just eased, froze over again. Amon looked at Alice with dangerous eyes, though a smile curled at the corner of his lips.
—He was probably laughing in anger.
"Alice," he drawled, "it's such a pity you never became a Provoker."
Alice looked at Amon. After pondering for a moment, she could not help asking:
"Why don't you hit me?"
Amon's eyes widened in disbelief, only to see Alice cover her mouth with her hand. Then, seeming to realize something was wrong, she switched to clutching her head and screaming:
"I didn't mean to!"
Amon fell silent for a moment, then asked with a frown, "...Did I force you to speak?"
"No." Alice lowered her hands, raised her head, and said with an extremely serious expression and tone, "Actually, my mouth has a mind of its own."
"...Fine." Amon reluctantly believed that obvious nonsense and smiled. "Alice, what kind of death would you prefer?"
"Huh?" Alice blinked her eyes in confusion.
Amon leaned back on the sofa in a relaxed posture and said with a smile, "While I'm still in a good mood, you can pick one you like."
After thinking for a moment, Alice held back insulting remarks like "Are you an M?" and asked a relatively neutral question with a curious expression:
"Why would being insulted put you in a good mood?"
"...Alice," Amon called her name with complicated feelings, "the point of that sentence was that I want to kill you."
Alice nodded, suddenly enlightened. "So you don't dare kill me!"
Amon fell into deep thought. He decided to learn from Alice's strategy and asked with a frown, "Normally, what would you do if you encountered a situation like this?"
Sure enough, Alice rested her chin on her hand and seriously considered it.